Cousin Of The Enemy
by Anyuna
Summary: The ancient Sirens, ancestors to the Merpeople disappeared long ago save for one who had a child to a witch. Now a new girl has just transferred to Hogwarts who turns out to be a descendant of that line. How will she be needed in the coming battle?
1. Hurt Butts And Dignity

Harry sat on the swing set in the park, completely absorbed in thought. He was playing over and over the last few hours before Sirius had di – no – gone through that curtain. How could he have acted differently to change what had happened? _"Well, for a start, not blindly rushing in and actually stopping to think for once might have helped. I spose I'd better just face it,"_ he thought,_"people who get close to me end up getting hurt. First my parents, now Sirius. What if -"_ Harry's train of thought was abruptly de-railed at that point by the sudden appearance of a rather short girl with brilliant gold hair dashing past him and scrambling up a tree. Before Harry could call out to her to find out what was going on, he got his answer. Dudley and most of his gang came huffing from the same direction.

"You!" Dudley had been like this all three of the agonizing months he'd spent at the Dursley's. He would ignore Harry completely until he needed something from him, at which point he would act as if he'd been mortally insulted. "Where'd she go!"

"Who?" Harry wasn't confused for a second, but he'd be damned if he'd help Dudley get yet another victim.

"Don't piss me around, you freak! Tell me where that weird bitch went, or I'll pummel you into the ground!" But Harry had a plan. Putting on a purposely fake-looking expression of defeat, he gloomily pointed out the exact direction of her hiding place. Dudley went to go that way, but stopped. "Wait," he said, his piggy eyes narrowing in suspicion. "I bet you're trying to trick me." Harry tried his best to look annoyed and defeated. "How dumb do you think I am?"

"Obviously dumb enough to fall for that." Harry muttered under his breath as Dudley and his troop stomped off through the undergrowth.

After about a minute had passed, Harry got shouted at again, only this time it was coming from up a tree. "What the hell is wrong with you! Why did you tell him where I was!"

"I figured since he'd never believe me whatever I said, so I might as well make sure he'd go the wrong way."

"Oh. Well I suppose that makes sense." She conceded as she began cautiously climbing down from her hiding place.

"You alright getting down?" Harry enquired.

"Yes. I'm perfectly alright getting down thank you. I'm not completely incompetent." No sooner had she said that, there was a yell and a thud. She'd fallen out of the tree. She sighed. "Typical."  
"You hurt?" he asked, hurrying over.

"Just my dignity and my backside. The ground broke my fall quite nicely." Harry offered her a hand. "Thanks," she said as he helped her to her feet. Shaking the hand he used to pull her up, she introduced herself. "I'm Morgan."

"Harry." Suddenly she gasped, glancing at her watch.

"Crap! It's getting late! I'd better go or my mum'll start to worry about me. I'll see you round!" She called, turning away.

"Bye." Harry said rather baffled as he watched her hurry off through the park. Realising the time himself, he headed back to the Dursley's to start packing.

* * *

A/N: I know it's a really short chapter, but hey, I'm too lazy to change it. R R if thou wouldst please(th)


	2. Unwelcome Surprises

After a quiet trip on the Knight Bus (or at least as peaceful as the Knight Bus can get) Harry arrived at the burrow an hour or two before dawn. Dragging his heavy trunk as quietly as possible, he hoped that he wouldn't wake anyone. So then of course, he was thoroughly shocked when he was confronted by a blaze of light and a clamor of voices shouting words of welcome. "What's going on?" Harry blurted out, utterly stupefied.

"Your friends are throwing you a party, that's what!" Said Ron, flinging one arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Why?" he queried, still nonplussed.

"We just thought it would be nice. What's wrong with wanting to welcome you back?" Hermione stated, although slightly too quickly, Harry thought. Looking around at the bright smiling faces and table loaded with food, Harry was gripped by a sudden and urgent desire to go to bed. However, he allowed his friends to drag him about the room to be greeted by everyone. After half an agonizing hour, Harry feinted tiredness and traipsed off to bed.

Having only gotten ten minutes of faked sleep, Harry was 'woken up' by Hermione. "Harry, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he muttered as he rolled over to face the wall. "Why are you worried anyway?"

"Well, uh…" She stuttered, fidgeting. "We're just concerned that you may not be coping with…" Here she broke off for a moment. "Well, you know."

"Look, I'm fine. Just let me deal with it in my own way. Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to sleep." As Hermione walked slowly out of the room Harry thought to himself, _"What does she know about coping? She's still got all of her family."

* * *

_

"What about this book dear?" She asked again, holding up yet another book not on the list. "I read this one a little while ago, and found it rather witty." 

"No Granna." Morgan sighed deeply, her hand over her eyes. "I only need the ones on the list. Tell you what. To save us some time, I'll get my school books while you go and pick up my robes from Madame Malkin's shop and I'll meet you back here." she said hopefully, craving some solitude. Although she loved Granna very much, she did tend to get on her nerves when she tried to help to the point of obsessiveness.

"That sounds like a brilliant idea Morgana. I'll see you soon." As she left Morgan physically flinched at the use of her full name. Even though her grandmother knew she despised it, she still refused to call her Morgan like practically everyone else did. Giving a massive sigh of relief, Morgan turned back to her search for the level six spellbook.

"Just the Care of Magical Creatures book left to get." Morgan turned. That voice was familiar. It was the boy she'd met the other day.

"I don't mind, as long as these ones don't bite." That comment came from one of his companions, a tall befreckled boy with bright red hair. Then the other, a girl with bushy brown hair, spoke.

"Don't worry Ron, Hagrid promised us the books would be perfectly normal this year."

"Hermione, normal for Hagrid wouldn't be normal for anyone else. Remember Norbert. And Aragog. He thought they were perfectly normal." This Ron came across to Morgan as a bit of a whiner.

"I might as well go over and say hi, what's the worst that could happen?" As she was about to head over she heard another familiar voice, although this one wasn't so welcomed.

"Well if it isn't Potter and his little groupies. Tell me Weasley what did your family have to sell off to buy your books this year? That pigsty you call a house wouldn't sell for much."

"Really Malfoy," Hermione said scathingly. "Can't you come up with any new material? We all got tired of that one ages ago."

"Whatever you say Mudblood. Not that anyone was talking to you. And Potter. Have a fun holiday did you? Just sitting around waiting for them to come get you, I expect." Malfoy's sneer was venomous.

"Wait a minute. That guy… Harry... he's…" she slipped back into silence as Harry snapped out his reply.

"Shut your face, you evil little twerp. At least I know I'm on the right side." He was fuming.

"Well Potter, just remember that the 'moral' side isn't necessarily the best one." To add insult to injury, Malfoy casually flicked Harry's hair and sneered, "Certainly not the best styled." And walked away. As Harry re-flattened his hair, or at least attempted to, muttering under his breath, everything came together in Morgan's mind.

"Scar. Potter. Hmm… Well that's pretty obvious."

"What is dear?" Morgan jumped so far she practically hit the ceiling. She wondered with a hand over heart if Granna did this sort of thing on purpose to scare her, or if she generally expected everyone to be on a constant alert or something.

"Nothing Granna. Nothing. Did you get the robes?" Granna held them up.

"They're all finished. Did you find all the books you need?" This was the question she'd been dreading. She'd been so preoccupied by the show that the famous Harry Potter had put on that she had completely forgotten to even look for her final book. She cringed as Granna held up another volume. "Because I think this was the one you were looking for. I found it over by the door."

"What?" Morgan couldn't believe her ears. She was going to need a lie down when she got home; this day had simply been too much for her.

"This book. Isn't it the one you were looking for? Spells level six?" Morgan took the book out of her hands and nodded distractedly. "Are you alright dear?" She asked, concern radiating from every pore.

"I'm fine." She shook her head lightly to clear away the mental cobwebs in her brain. "Just a little tired. We've got everything I need now. Let's go home."

All the way home, Morgan couldn't help but think about the episode in Flourish Blotts'. _"So he's the Harry Potter huh? Well I guess that rules out any chance of us hanging out when the term starts, especially when he discovers who it is that I'm related to."_ She sighed and returned to gazing out the window.

* * *

A/N: More to come. R R!


	3. Sorting

Sitting in their compartment, Harry was reflecting on how his life had changed over the past five years. No longer Dudley's plaything, he was well on his way to becoming a fully trained wizard. Now he'd gained a few friends, and, he thought regretfully, lost a few as well.

Obviously seeing the expression on his face, Hermione interrupted Harry's reverie. "Are you alright Harry?" She asked timidly, concern radiating from every pore.

"I'm fine, Hermione. How many times am I going to have to say that?" he replied reproachfully, wishing silently that the universe would just leave him alone. Even though he knew that she was only asking because she cared, he still didn't appreciate the constant sympathy from everyone around him, especially when they acted like they knew how he felt.

"See Hermione? I told you that. If he says he's fine, then he is." Ron said, his voice full of confidence. In the following quiet, they heard the sound of a door being opened and closed as quietly as the person could manage. Looking around, but seeing no one, they all returned to their thoughts.

* * *

Exhaling gratefully, Morgan leaned her head against the door she'd just come though. "That was extremely uncomfortable." She sighed as she moved off the find a compartment that would stay empty this time. She made a mental note to thank Granna for indulging her request to be disillusioned before going into the station.

She slipped gratefully into an empty compartment, hoping desperately that nobody would come into this one. It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been him, but at least it wasn't her good-for-nothing cousin.

Although she was glad this year she'd been allowed to go off to Hogwarts, she was still terrified. "All those people, and all of them judgmental, I'll bet." She thought to herself while dreading what was going to happen soon, too soon for comfort.

The thought of having to go up in front of a whole school terrified her, knowing what most of them would probably think of her in the instant judgment that was commonplace when people learned her name.

"Why did I agree to do this?" she asked no one in particular, just the universe in general.

* * *

Having somehow managed to avoid removing the disillusionment charm until the last moment, Morgan was forced to reluctantly forfeit her near-invisibility while standing among the first years when an extremely stern woman scolded her.

"Now, my dear. As good as that disillusionment charm is, there is no need for that sort of thing." Professor McGonagall's lips were pursed in that way that they were so famous for doing. She rapped Morgan on the head with her wand – a little too vigorously in Morgan's point of view. The first years gasped as a girl appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Their astonishment was short lived and replaced by abject terror as Professor McGonagall commanded them to follow her and strode through the doors into the Great Hall.

Morgan kept her head down. She was painfully aware of how much people were staring. "Why couldn't I be a midget? Then I wouldn't be standing out so much." She thought bitterly as she plodded after the titchy first years. She didn't look up as someone, she didn't know who – or suspect for a moment that it was a hat – started to sing about the different houses. She didn't watch as the first years around her were sent to their designated places. She just listened with a heavy heart for her name to be called.

Professor McGonagall finally got to the end of her list. "And a special sorting. Morgana Malfoy."

The whole school erupted in murmurs as she walked up to the hat and put it on. Draco, for example could be seen exclaiming his astonishment and anger at seeing her. She could see the display as the hat started to talk in her ear.

"Well now, where to put you?"

"Anywhere that he isn't." Morgan muttered under her breath as she glared at the entirety of the Slytheryn table.

The hat chuckled. "Family feud eh? Well that rules out Slytheryn then, and you're not studious enough to be in Ravenclaw. Looks like you'll be best suited in Gryffindor." She heard the last word being shouted out for the benefit of the rest of the school, and looked for the table where she was to sit. She saw a few of the first years cheering, but they were the only ones. After all, they hadn't had the time to get to know and hate the name of Malfoy. She slumped down at the end of the table, avoiding all eye contact and talking to no one. Luckily the headmaster started speaking, so everyone turned their attention to him.

Harry was thoroughly shocked. That girl, Morgan. She was a Malfoy! In his bewilderment he vaguely heard Ron remark that another one was just what they needed, as if one wasn't enough.

"And in our house too." Hermione was also less than pleased.

Harry was about to fill his friends in on the facts, but Dumbledore stood up for his speech, so he lapsed into silence again.


	4. Is She Completely Unreachable?

"Welcome again to yet another year at Hogwarts. As this will be your home for at least this year, I hope you enjoy it. Now this old man will stop yabbering so that you can all enjoy your much-earned feast."

No longer hungry, Harry was going to go over and talk to her. But before he could move, she had stood up hurriedly and practically bolted out of the Hall, earning her yet more stares.

"Look, the atmosphere just got less vile in here." Hermione spat nastily.

Harry was shocked. "What are you talking about!" He could scarcely believe just how quickly his friends had passed their judgment.

"Come on man," Ron said, helping himself to a bun. "She's a Malfoy, so she must be evil." The expression on his face seemed to imply that this was a blindingly obvious fact.

"What about Sirius? His whole family were creeps, but he wasn't!" Harry replied heatedly. Hermione was shocked. This was the first time she had heard him so much as mention Sirius' since the Department of Mysteries. He seemed to notice this himself, as he swiftly went quiet.

Ron however, appeared not to notice, as he asked; "Why are you defending her anyway? You don't even know her."

Harry broke his sudden silence to say, "I do though. I met her the night before I came to the Burrow. Dudley and his cronies were chasing her."

As usual, Ron was puzzled. "Chasing her? Why?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Never asked her. It didn't really come up. I didn't talk to her for long, only a couple of minutes. Then she took off saying her mum worries or something."

"Why didn't you tell us about this before Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Didn't think it was important." He said with another shrug. "Anyway, when I talked to her she didn't seem nasty, a little weird, but not nasty."

Hermione was still doubtful. "I still don't think she can be trusted, no matter how she seemed. It's not like that's hard to fake. Besides, I don't think I could even try to be friendly to any Malfoy."

"Me either. One Malfoy is too much for me anyway." Ron agreed as he piled yet another helping onto his plate.

"I can't believe the way the two of you are acting!" Harry snapped. He retreated back into silence once again, and didn't speak to either of his friends all through dinner. He decided to talk to Morgan at breakfast tomorrow and straighten things out.

Unfortunately for him, when Harry arrived a breakfast, even though he was quite early, Morgan was nowhere to be seen. When he questioned those around him, Colin said that he'd seen her leaving the Hall when he was going in, and that was pretty early.

Still determined, he thought to speak to her during potions, their first class. But still, no luck. She entered at the last moment, and sat at the front, working with her head down the whole time. When Harry tried to catch her attention, he ruined his potion, causing Snape to smile in that special way that he smiled only when something went wrong for Harry. And when the bell went, she was out the door, too fast for anyone to even call out to her.

That happened in every single class that day. She had made herself completely unreachable. Even at dinner, when she hurried in, grabbed an armful of food, then hurried out again. And in the evening, she was absent, not coming in until extremely late, then not speaking to anyone and going straight up to her dorm.

Much to Harry's frustration, this continued right through the week. He had all but given up completely on trying to talk to her; she obviously wanted to be left alone. But for what reason?


	5. Quidditch Tryouts

There was no more putting it off. Now that Angelina was gone, he was quidditch captain and the captain had to arrange tryouts. With the season looming closer and closer every day, he had no choice but to organize the tryouts.

Having put up a sign in the Gryffindor common room two days earlier, he set out on Saturday morning to set up. The brooms already set up; he started to get the balls ready for play. He'd just set the quaffle by the case when he heard an uncertain voice behind him.

"Um, is this the tryout?" As Harry turned to answer, he realized who it was. When she saw his face, she sighed. Not knowing what to say, Harry stood there blankly. With downcast eyes, Morgan turned to leave.

"Wait!" Harry said suddenly. She turned back to him, bracing herself for his accusal, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, but still she looked him directly in the face. "Why've you been avoiding me? I've been trying to talk to you all week."

The gentle tone of his voice surprised her. But she still dropped her eyes again. "I saw how much you hated Draco in that bookstore, and I just thought that you wouldn't want anything to do with me because of him." She sniffed quietly, then continued. "That's what usually happens."

Harry laughed. "That's all?" Morgan's head snapped up at this. Harry shook his head and smiled. "I learnt a long time ago not to judge someone by what their family's like."

But she was still not convinced. "What about your friends? They don't seem quite as tolerant." she said, rising one shoulder.

"They'll get over it. So," he said picking up the quaffle, "what position are you trying out for?"

She looked uncertain. "What's going?"

He put the ball under his arm and started to count them on his fingers. "We need two more chasers and two beaters as well."

Her eyes lit up. "So you need beaters huh?"

"Thinking of being one of our new beaters huh?" However, his question went unanswered as the rest of the applicants and the two remaining team members showed up.

Seeing the look Ron was giving her, Morgan averted her eyes and brought out a book from inside her robes, sat down and started to read.

"What's she doing here?" he hissed to Harry.

He shot Ron a warning look. "She's trying out. Come on mate, have the decency to at least get to know her before you decide to hate her." Ron nodded grudgingly. Harry, felling slightly cheered, addressed the new arrivals. "Today, four slots on the team will be filled. Since there are…" he stopped to quickly count them. "Twelve of you, we'll separate you into groups of four. From one group, two will play beater, two chaser; then they'll swap round." Now," he said pointing out who were to be the first four. "You lot come with me, the rest of you can sit in the stands and watch."

* * *

The first lot were, in a word, hopeless. Three of them were second years, and one of them a third year. A second year girl was hit in the back of the head by the quaffle because she'd gotten confused by the play that was apparently too complicated. She left the pitch crying soon after that when Ron laughed at her. Ginny decided to retaliate by singing the nasty version of 'Weasley is our king'. That deflated him a little, and he was soon back concentrating on the quaffle again. After his brilliant save last year and an entire summer of almost constant practice, he had improved markedly – now right up to Wood's standard.

Slightly disheartened, Harry called for the remaining three of the first four to land and called for the next four to get ready. None of them managed to lighten his spirits at all, being nearly as bad as the first lot. While playing beater, a fourth year dropped his bat. While he retrieved it, three people were very nearly unseated by the unwatched bludger. Harry himself had to barrel roll to avoid it, and it got so close to Ginny that she felt it just skim across her cheek.

So it was that Harry called for the next four with a heavy heart. But right from the moment they mounted their brooms he knew this lot were better. All of them sat astride their brooms with confidence. Strangely enough, the only four that were at all decent ended up in the same group, though Harry decided later that it was because they were the smarter ones, wanting to eye up their competition first.

Stranger still, was the fact that all four started playing in the position they were least suited for. A fifth year with the beater's bat swung hard, but missed the bludger completely, almost falling off his broom in the process. But when playing chaser, he got a goal past Ron that just passed out of his reach. Morgan was an alright chaser as long as she only had to catch the quaffle, not pass it. But as beater, she got in a shot that forced Ginny to brake and spin around in the opposite direction to avoid it, making her drop the quaffle, which one of the others caught and tried to score another goal which Ron caught - barely.

There was no question as to who made the team, and Harry told them this as they packed up.

On the way back to the castle, Harry noticed Morgan hurrying away. Jogging to catch up, he called out to her. "Morgan! Hey, wait!"

She turned slowly. "What?"

He could see from the look in her eyes that her defenses had gone back up. "I didn't want you to disappear again. You're harder to find than a demiguise."

She chuckled. "I am good at what I do." She said, shrugging. "Why are you so worried about me anyway?"

"I know what it's like not to have any friends. I went through it for long enough, and I don't like it to happen to others." Harry could see the change in her. She was undoubtedly thinking about all the lonely times. "Look, meet me in the common room tomorrow morning and you can come to breakfast with us."

"But what about your friends?" Morgan asked for the second time that day.

"I said that they'll get over it. If they don't, then they're not the people I thought they were. Will you at least give them a chance to get to know you?"

Taking a deep breath, she answered slowly. "Okay. I'll meet you by the fireplace." She smiled lightly. "See you tomorrow. By the way," she said glancing over his shoulder "your redheaded friend wants to talk to you."

He turned round to tell Ron just to wait a minute only to see him talking to the fifth year. When he turned back, Morgan was gone again. "I hope she turns up tomorrow. This girl has a knack for vanishing." He thought wearily, hanging back to catch up with Ron. The conversation he was deeply immersed in was – surprise, surprise – about the Cannons.


	6. Breakfast Isn't Always The Best Way To S...

Ron stood by the portrait hole, fidgeting. "Come on man, we'll be late if you don't get a move on."

Harry, feigning preoccupation replied; "If you're so worried about being late, just go without me. I'll catch up."

"You sure?" he checked, still hovering by the door uncertainly. "You don't mind?"

He shook his head. "Go. Eat. I'll be fine." On the inside however, Harry was actually mildly anxious. He was hoping against hope that Morgan hadn't gone off to breakfast without him. 'I may not get another chance to prove myself.' he thought tersely. Ron left, and he waited a few moments before going down. A quick glance of the common room revealed Morgan shielding herself with an enormous book.

Feeling eyes on her, Morgan peeked over the top of the volume. Upon seeing Harry, she relaxed visibly. "About time you got here. What took you so long?"

"I had to wait till Ron left." He answered with a casual shrug. "You hungry?"

"Not really, but at least now I can put this away." She began the task of stuffing the huge thing into her backpack. It did fit… just. "It was lucky that I had it with me. I only got it out yesterday for some extra research for Care of Magical Creatures."

Harry would have said something, had be not been so used to Hermione constantly saying something was for 'light reading' that would house a family of four. As they walked down to the Great Hall the conversation flowed freely. That freedom gradually slowed down to a trickle as they got closer to the hall… and all those people.

At the door, Morgan paused and drew a long, steadying breath. "Here goes nothing." she remarked flippantly despite the worms writhing around in her stomach.

Walking in, she felt like the whole world had stopped to have a good gawk. Pretending not to notice, she followed Harry to the Gryffindor table with her head high and her face blank. With all the eyes on her, Morgan started to feel like the worms had just grown teeth. Big pointy ones. Still, she kept pretending to be calm, thankful beyond all words for her years as an outcast at muggle school – they had taught her to mask her feelings.

As they sat down, Ron turned to greet Harry only to falter in sudden shock. "What's she doing here! I thought you were looking… oh." The penny had dropped. "So that's why you took so long."

"What on earth are you talking about Ron?"

For once, Hermione was the one confused. Ron looked like he was planning to milk this for all it was worth later, but for now there were more important things to deal with. "Harry took absolutely ages getting ready, and told me to go without him. I didn't know why, but apparently he had someone more important to see."

While Ron and Hermione shared what they thought was a knowing (and rather disapproving) look, Harry looked at Morgan. Her golden eyes seemed darker than usual, and her outward appearance was cold and hard. This was definitely not going to plan.

"So, why have you started here in sixth year?" Was this Hermione being civil? Harry's hopes soared… "Durmstrang not good enough for you?" …And came crashing straight back down.

Morgan chose to ignore that shot. "For your information, I was home-schooled by my grandmother. But for some reason, she made me come here. I've never even been to Durmstrang, not like I'd want to go there."

"Really?" she retorted, feigning surprise, "I'd have thought a future Death Eater like yourself would love it there."

The slap resounded across the hall. Hermione stared up at her, completely taken aback by her abrupt rage. She put her hand to her now stinging cheek.

Morgan stood up and towered over Hermione in her anger. "You know nothing about me." she hissed. "My father was murdered by Death Eaters when I was only six. And ever since, my mother has shut herself away, terrified that it might happen again, and have them claim someone else she loves. So don't you talk to me about Death Eaters." All of a sudden she seemed to realize the whole of the school just seen the commotion she had caused. Not wanting to feel like an interesting specimen in a lab, she stormed out, still shaking slightly from the tidal wave of emotion that had just crashed upon her.

Harry turned to his friends to say something, but words completely failed him and he merely shook his head sadly as he followed her out of the hall, hoping – he knew in vain – that he could find her. Ron helped Hermione up, still partially in a daze. "Did you know about that?"

"No." She hung her head. "But I do know that I shouldn't have said what I did."

* * *

Harry's hope was in vain. No one saw Morgan all the rest of that day, she wasn't even in class. Harry had almost given up when first thing next morning, there she was. Sitting by the fire, just holding a photo and crying openly.

But it was what happened next was what shocked him far more. Ron and Hermione approached her timidly. "Morgan?" she looked up, her face soaked with tears. "I'm really sorry for what I said yesterday and–"

Morgan waved her off. "It's not that. It's my–" she swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's my mum. She's gone missing."

"What!" Harry exclaimed, coming over.

Morgan laughed weakly. "It's a just one big convention." She took a deep, shaky breath and started to explain. "When I left the hall, McGonagall found me. She took me up to her office and told me that Death Eaters attacked my house and kidnapped my mum." She turned the photo around in her shaking hands. "I'm probably never going to see her again. Except for this."

She held up the photo. It was of a small girl joyously opening presents while a woman who looked like Morgan, only older and a man who looked remarkably like Lucius Malfoy – except that he was beaming. It was her family.

"We were so happy then." In the photo, all three stopped what they were doing to wave up at her, causing another wave of tears to fall from her eyes. Slowly closing them she whispered bitterly, "It's not fair."

Hermione tentatively reached out a hand. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Shrugging it off, she moved off to the stairs. "I just need to be alone for a while." She muttered, half to herself.

* * *

A/N: Nothing ever really goes right for her, I actually feel sorry for putting her through all this. R R! 


	7. Grieving

"Come on Morgan. You need to get up." Morgan slowly opened one eye and looked at Hermione who was currently standing at the edge of her bed with a mildly disapproving look on her face. "You have to go to class."

"Actually, Professor McGonagall said I could take the week before the holidays off. Obviously, she's of the same opinion as me." She saw the puzzled look on Hermione's face and explained. "That my mother's probably been tortured to death by now."

Hermione gave a small gasp. "You can't say that! You have to keep up hope."

"Why bother? Hoping never got me anywhere before, I'm just being realistic. Now if you don't mind," she said, getting up and taking hold of the curtain's edge, "I was sleeping."

As the curtain sped past her face Hermione sighed. There seemed to be no talking to her. Every time she tried, she got shut out.

* * *

When Hermione got to the breakfast table, both Harry and Ron looked up from what they were doing. Hermione sighed and shook her head. "No luck. I couldn't even convince her to get out of bed."

Ron was just about to say something when Professor McGonagall came over. "Do any of you three know where Miss Malfoy is?"

All three looked at each other, realization dawning. Harry asked, "Is there news about her mother Professor?"

"News or not, it doesn't concern you Mr. Potter. Now do you know where she is or do I have to go and find her myself?"

Harry knew there was no good going to come from trying to argue with her. Defeated, he said, "She's still in bed."

Professor McGonagall merely nodded in acknowledgement before briskly walking off. Harry, Hermione and Ron shared a brief look, then all three of them simultaneously got up and followed their head of house out of the Hall.

As soon as they were out of the hall, Harry called out, "Professor McGonagall, we want to come too, Morgan is our friend."

"I told you before…"

About to repeat the refusal, she was interrupted by an elderly woman. "It's quite all right, Minerva. She will need her friends now more than ever."

"So it's bad news then." Hermione said grimly.

The old woman sighed. "Sadly, yes. Well then," she said heavily, "let us go and break my granddaughter's heart."

Along the way, Morgan's grandmother turned to Harry, Hermione and Ron. "As you have hopefully realized, Morgana is my granddaughter. She calls me Granna, and it is just easier if you do too." She sighed. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances."

* * *

When they reached the common room, they found Morgan sitting in one of the armchairs reading. She looked up as they entered. The second she saw her grandmother, she bolted over to her. Granna stretched out her arms and Morgan ran into them. Her head buried in Granna's hair she whispered, "She's gone, isn't she? I knew this was coming, I could feel it."

Granna gently stroked the back of Morgan's head. "Come on dear, let's pack your things, I'm taking you home for awhile."

Morgan pulled away, nodded mutely and headed slowly up the stairs to gather her belongings.


	8. A Funeral And A Secret

"Valeria Malfoy was a kind loving woman. She persevered thought many trials in her life and…"

The droning voice of the old wizard speaking faded for Morgan. She could hardly bear listening to all these speakers. She knew in her heart that none of them had really known her, know how she had changed. How her father's death had made her bubbly, happy mother a nervous wreck. On the bad days she had been barely able to look after herself.

The good days had been rare, but wonderful. Sometimes her mother would actually smile. It seemed if only for a short time, like nothing was wrong. But those times never lasted long. And now there would never be one again. Morgan felt her eyes begin to prickle. 'Oh great,' she thought, 'here come the waterworks again.'

Without any warning, Granna elbowed her sharply in the ribs. She turned, shocked.

Granna leaned over and whispered, "They want you to go up and speak now dear."

"Ah. Joy." Having delivered her sarcastic remark, Morgan got up slowly and walked towards the little alter at which the previous speakers had stood. She wondered how many people had come here to farewell someone, only to have to trudge the length of a seemingly endless hall, every step with feet like sixteen tonne weights.

Finally getting there, Morgan lightly cleared her throat. Her friends had advised her to write something down, but she had decided against it, so she just talked about the first thing that came to mind – injustice.

"In my opinion, there is no justice in this world we live in. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers and children all sacrificed for some glorified idea of good over evil." At this, a whispering started flitting about the hall, Morgan carried on paying them no heed. "My mother's life was taken from her by Death Eaters, but not in the way you would think. For ten years she was trapped in a prison of her own fear. They put her there. Then they came and killed her, taking her from me forever." Her voice broke suddenly. "I- I'm sorry, I can't do this."

She ran from the hall, not caring what they thought, just needing to escape. Knowing that the after function would be held at her Great Uncle Ostric's house, she headed in that general direction.

* * *

By the time she got there, her two best friends were already waiting for her. They were twins whose parents had moved from America to England. As they were both muggles, that made things a little difficult sometimes. They weren't strangers to the memory charm – but of course they didn't know that.

Morgan smiled weakly. "Hey guys."

The boy, Tremain, put one hand on her shoulder. "Granna says you took off. You okay?"

Morgan couldn't even meet his eyes. "I'm fine." she mumbled unconvincingly.

The girl, Drefinia, wrapped one arm around Morgan's waist and rested her head on her shoulder. "You're not. But we're her for you. Okay?"

Morgan just nodded. She didn't trust herself not to scream if she opened her mouth.

Her friends were always there for her. No matter what went wrong in her life, she could always rely on them. Tremain and Drefinia were not the names their parents had given them, but both of them had come to the conclusion that Goths just don't have names like Samantha and Quentin, so they picked new names for themselves at the age of twelve. Drefinia was actually her fifth name, she kept changing her mind.

"Morgana dear, I need to talk to you." They turned. Granna was there, looking unusually worried. "If you two would kindly wait inside, I would be much obliged."

Morgan ground her teeth. Granna was one of the nicest people around, except for the fact that she seemed to think all Muggles were simpletons. "Anything that you have to say to me, you can say in front of them. They're my friends whether you like it or not!"

Granna's reply was cut off by Tremain. "Hey, that's cool. We'll be inside waiting for you." Both of them gave Morgan's hand a squeeze before walking off in silence.

When they were out of earshot, Granna spoke up. "I'm sorry, but I have to tell you something about your mother and I know how you hate it when I obliterate their memories."

Morgan's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

"You know that I found Valeria in a house that the Dark Lord destroyed before he came to power."

"Yes. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"I told both you and your mother that her parents had been Muggles, but they were actually squibs from an old family, very old." Granna looked at Morgan with tears brimming in her eyes. "I had to protect her. If he had known that she was alive, it would have put her life in jeopardy."

Morgan put her head in her hands, grasping it as if trying to will this to make sense. "I don't get it. Why was she so important?"

For a while, there was no answer. "Not her. You. One of your ancestors took a siren as his bride. Since then all the women have shared the siren's magic. And their song."

"You mean the mermaids?"

"No. The sirens were an older race. They're all gone now. There was a line in a very old prophesy, 'The daughter of the sirens shall break down the barriers of darkness. Without her, the light shall fail and darkness will surely reign triumphant.' The daughter of the sirens is you. We don't know what these barriers of darkness are, but you have somehting to do with it, we know that much."

Morgan swallowed hard. "So I have to face down You-Know-Who?"

"That's not for certain yet. You have to help Harry somehow. At least that's what Dumbledore thinks. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but it was just too dangerous."

"And no one asked me?" Morgan whispered. Granna merely looked at her, confused by this question. And then Morgan was up and towering over her in her rage. "I have to deal with all this stuff nobody should have to deal with and then on top of that, you tell me that I HAVE to risk my life for people who could care less about me and won't ever thank me! I don't think so!" She brushed past Granna, going inside and plopping down on the couch next to Tremain and Drefinia.

"What was that all about?" Drefinia asked.

"Nothing." Morgan snapped.

"But-"

Morgan wanted more than anything to tell them everything. But she couldn't. It was just the way it was when you had muggle friends. "Just drop it okay! It doesn't matter!" she snapped at them.

Drefinia sighed but didn't try to ask any further.


	9. The NotSoFestive Season

Christmas might have only been one sleep away, but Harry, Hermione and Ron were hardly excited. The look on Morgan's face when they had come in with Granna was haunting them all.

In the midst of their worrying, in came Professor McGonagall carrying a letter. Wordlessly, she handed it to Harry.

It was from Granna and addressed to the three of them. Harry read it out loud for the other's to hear.

'I understand you three are Morgana's friends. I am getting very worried about her and I would like to ask if you would come and stay over the holidays. She needs the company. I don't like her spending all her time with those muggle children.'

"What's your decision going to be?" Professor McGonagall asked them as soon as he dad finished reading. "I don't have all day, you know."

"I think she needs us." Hermione said.

"Let's go then!" Harry was almost overjoyed to finally be able to something to help her instead of just sitting around worrying.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Be at the Headmaster's office at eight tonight."

* * *

Granna having left that morning, Morgan had slipped back into old habits. Sitting around in that house all day with nothing to do had driven her insane. She decided that she had to so something.

Rummaging around under her bed she found an old, beaten up box. A present from her Great Uncle Ostric, that old fool. It was like a miniature Room of Requirement, giving the holder anything they could think of. Of course, he had never thought she would use it for this.

Holding it tightly, Morgan concentrated on the image in her mind – a bottle of firewhiskey. Then she turned her mind to the drink itself. The way it tasted, smelt and anything else about it she could think of.

After a few moments of this she unlocked the box, taking out the new bottle of booze. Looking at it gravely, she wondered if this was a good idea after all. She knew her mother wouldn't have approved of this. That thought didn't help. Being reminded of her mother washed all Morgan's doubts away. Getting mindless right now was just what she needed.

She broke the seal and took a swig, feeling it burn her throat. It had been a long time since she'd had anything, so it was like that first taste of spirits all over again. The feeling of your throat on fire, the urge to cough and spit it out. Then the blessed warmth as it reaches your stomach.

By the time eight o'clock rolled around, Morgan blissfully ignorant of her troubles. Hearing the doorbell, she stumbled down the hallway to greet her visitors. Pleased with herself that it only took two tries to get the door open, Morgan waved at her new guests, still trying to bring them properly into focus.

Getting her vision in line, she saw who it was. "Hey guys!" she exclaimed, happily fling her arms around Ron and giving him a noogie. "Come in." She led them into the lounge and plopped down on the couch.

Hermione gave her a long, hard look. "What have you had to eat today?"

Morgan shrugged. "Nothing much. I've kind of been on a liquid diet." She giggled and shook the bottle she was holding. "I made a funny."

Hermione very nearly failed to contain her feeling about this, but just moved off to the kitchen to find something to get into Morgan's system that wasn't alcoholic. Her hopes were dashed. There was hardly any food in the cupboards. She stuck her head around the door. "Do you have any food here?"

Morgan's face contorted as she tried to line up more than one brain cell that wasn't alcohol fuddled. "Um, there's some pies in the fridge, you could nuke one of those."

"Nuke? What's that mean?" As usual, Ron was utterly perplexed with anything to do with muggles.

The answer was accompanied by much bottle sloshing. "Microwave. It's a muggle way of cooking real fast." She realized that due to her exuberant gesturing, there was now an errant trickle of booze running down her arm. Not wanting to be wasteful, she licked it off.

"Uh Morgan?" Harry seemed wary. "What exactly is that stuff?"

"Firewhiskey! Yay!" Just then the microwave finished its job and announced it with a noise. Morgan laughed at it. "That's the machine that goes 'ping'! That means your baby is still alive!"

Ron turned incredulously to Hermione. "Hermione! You're having a baby!"

Hermione sighed wearily. "No Ron, it's a muggle joke that I am not going to explain to you." Ron went to try and weasel an explanation out of her, but got cut off by the doorbell ringing.

"Ooh!" squealed Morgan. "More visitors."

"Don't get it, we don't know who it-" Harry began, but he was too late. Morgan had already flung the door wide. But it was okay, as she seemed to know whoever it was as she hugged both of them.

"Introductions!" Morgan said. "Tremain and Drefinia, these fine people are Harry, Hermione and Ron." There was a round of hi's from all of them.

Tremain eyed Morgan's bottle suspiciously. "What's that?"

"What's what?" she said, trying to hide it behind her back, but she was too slow and he took it off her and sniffed it.

"How much have you had?" he asked wearily.

"Not much, just this one." She pouted. "And I don't see why it's any of your business." He pinched the bridge of his nose wearily, shaking his head and sighing.

Drefinia took over the questioning. "It's our business because we're worried about you. Now have you had anything to eat?"

"She will have in a minute." Hermione said, placing the pie down in front of her.

"Good thinking." Drefinia said. "Nice to see someone who can keep their head when there's trouble."

"Unless Devil's Snare is involved." Ron muttered.

"What?" The twins looked at him quizzically.

"Oh, nothing." He said, laughing nervously.

"Riiight." Tremain gave Ron a lengthy stare. "Anyway, once you've finished that, I think you need to get to bed and sleep this off."

"But- but…" Morgan stuttered. She looked into Tremain's face. She could tell there was no way she could win this. "Fine. You win." She conceded. But not before she added, "spoilsport," under her breath.

* * *

Once her pie had been duly consumed, Tremain sheparded her off to bed. Coming back in, he sat down heavily on the couch. Nobody said anything for a long time. After a while, a sound wavering on the edge of hearing started coming from Morgan's room. The sound of someone trying to cry without making any noise.

Drefinia went to get up, but Tremain put a hand on her shoulder and sat her back down. "I'll go see her." He said quietly. "She's probably just had a nightmare again."

To occupy themselves, Hermione tried a little small talk. "So," she asked Drefinia, "how long have those two been going out?"

"What? They're not going out. Tremain does love her though, even if he won't admit it. They've just been friends for so long, he doesn't want to risk it by making a move. My brother always has been a bit of a coward."

"Your brother?" Harry asked as Tremain came back into the room and sat back down wearily.

She nodded. "Yep. We're twins. I'm the older one."

"Only by about a minute." Tremain said, his eyes closed.

"It still counts!"

"Whatever you say sis. Whatever you say."

* * *

A/N: Morgan's a bad girl succumming to the temptations af alcohol, satan's eye drops. You know, anything can be satan's something. R R!


	10. Spoiled Picnic

"Merry Christmas!"

Morgan rolled over, took one look at Drefinia's cheerful face and groaned. She pulled the covers over her head. "Leave the hung over girl alone." She moaned indistinctly.

"Not a chance!" said Drefinia, whipping the covers back. "You're not allowed to mope on Christmas. Time to get up and face the world again." She turned and left.

Morgan sat up, knowing it was futile to try and get back to sleep. One of the twins would be sure to come back in and wake her up again. "Where would I be without them?" she asked herself. "For a start, I'd still be asleep." She sighed and started to try and find some clean clothes in her bombsite of a room.

After they had opened their presents, there was nothing to do except sit around. "Hey, I know!" Hermione cried suddenly. "We could have a picnic."

Morgan shot her a questioning look. "Out there in the cold?"

"Well why not?" she replied. "It's got to be better that sitting here doing nothing. Anyone else got any better ideas?" She looked around in triumph as everyone just stared blankly, completely out of ideas.

They were just walking out the door when Harry realized something. "Hang on, I forgot something." Hermione looked around the door and saw him fetch his wand from his bag and stash it in his coat. He saw her approving look.

She smiled grimly. "You can't be too careful. I've got mine and I made Ron bring his too."

"Good thinking." He replied.

"Hey you two!" Morgan shouted. "What's taking so long?"

"Coming!" Hermione called, hurrying down the stairs.

* * *

In the midst of unpacking, Morgan stopped watching her breath making little clouds in the freezing air. "It's so cold out here." She said, shivering.

"We could try making a fire." Drefinia suggested.

Morgan was skeptical about that. "Can you do that? Here?"

"How hard can it be? Cavemen managed it didn't they?" But it wasn't as simple as she had hoped.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Drefinia threw down the smoldering twigs in frustration. "Why can't there just be a magical solution to everything!"

Everyone except the twins froze. Drefinia looked from Morgan who was desperately trying to stifle a laugh to Ron who had inhaled part of his sandwich out of shock. "What?"

The awkward silence was broken by a sudden crack. Everyone jumped.

"Damn backfiring cars." Tremain muttered.

The others weren't so easily calmed. Harry stood up, his clasped hand on his wand in his jacket.

About to sit back down, he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned just in time to see a Death Eater jump out into the open, wand raised. They didn't recognize him, but could see he meant business.

But he wasn't quick enough. Harry whipped out his wand and cried. "Stupefy!" The Death Eater dodged, but only just. When he looked up, he saw three wands pointed at him.

"Good thing we outnumber him." Ron said, relieved.

That statement was closely followed by four more cracks as the same number of Death Eaters apparated.

"What the hell is going on here!" Tremain raged.

One of the Death Eaters turned. It was Lucius. "Don't worry, you filthy little muggle," he sneered, "we're only here for the Potter boy. You are of no concern to us."

"You're the filthy one!"

Lucius turned to the voice. "Ah, my little mud-blooded niece. How is your mother?"

"How dare you!" she launched herself at him, but Hermione held her back. "Let me go! This waste of skin doesn't deserve to live!"

"Oh, now that hurt." He said, a smug grin on his face. "I can't let an insult like that go unpunished." In one fluid motion he seized Tremain and holding him in a headlock, pressed his wand to Tremain's neck. "You're friend will suffer because of you. Cru-"

Before anyone else reacted, Drefinia had cried out, "no!" and reached out for her brother. Lucius went flying. But no one had any time to think about how strange that was as the battle had begun.

In one word, it was chaos. Spells were flying everywhere. Morgan managed to stupefy one of them, but no sooner had she done that than another was pointing his wand at her.

Tremain may not have had a clue what was going on or what had suddenly happened to reality, but he instinctively knew that there was danger here. Very real danger. And Morgan was right in the middle of it, shooting light out of what looked like a stick. He could see Lucius aiming directly at her from behind. "Don't you even try it."

He did try however, only to find himself mysteriously under the silencing charm. This was odd because no one had shouted 'silencio' – or even anything that sounded remotely like it.

In the midst of it all, man appeared with the crack of a whip. "Dumbledore!" All those around cried his name, but in varying tones. His students called out in relief, while his enemies spat it, full of hatred.

As if at some unknown signal – or just possibly the sight of Dumbledore – the Death Eaters all disapparated.

Morgan sank gratefully to the ground. "Thanks much to whoever silenced that dirtbag."

The others looked confused. "It wasn't me." Hermione said.

"Or me." Harry added. They looked at Ron, but he shook his head.

Morgan stood back up. "Who was it then? And who disarmed Lucius too?"

"It appears," Dumbledore said slowly, "that if it wasn't any of you, it must have been them."

They all turned to look at Tremain who was helping Drefinia up off the ground. Tremain didn't like the way they were all staring at him. "What?"

* * *

A/N: So aparently her 'muggle' friends aren't. Who could have seen that coming? Me apart me from me obviously, I did write it. R R!


	11. Muggles? Apparently Not

A/N: thanks to DarkGoddess29 and Bumperz for your reviews! I hope all you out there in reader-land will be as nice and leave me your thoughts.

* * *

"But Headmaster, that's impossible!" Morgan exclaimed. "They're muggles!"

"Well, apparently not."

"Uh Morgan," Drefinia asked, "what's going on here?"

Morgan shot a questioning look at Dumbledore, who nodded. "Guys? I'm a witch."

Drefinia laughed. "So am I."

Morgan shook her head. "No, as in an actual witch. Watch. _Accio Sandwich_."

They stared as the sandwich flew from the picnic basket into her hand. "How'd you do that?" Tremain asked in disbelief.

Dumbledore smiled. "She used magic. Just like you two did only moments ago."

"What are we going to do now Headmaster?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore didn't answer his question. Instead he pulled out his wand and conjured two Hogwarts letters, each complete with the official seal. He handed one to each of the twins. "Think carefully about this." He told them. "You will be far behind everyone your own age, and will have to work long and hard. However," he said, his eyes twinkling, "the end result will be more than worth it."

The twins opened their letters and read them carefully. Drefinia kept looking from the letter to Morgan and back again. "Is this for real?" she asked breathily. Morgan grinned and nodded. "I'll do it." Drefinia said.

Tremain looked up from his letter at Morgan. "I'd get to go to school with you?" he asked.

"Well you'd have to start with the basics, so we wouldn't be sharing any classes, but we'd all be together in the castle." Morgan replied.

"I'm in." stated Tremain without hesitation. "Wait a minute, castle?"

Morgan laughed. "Hogwarts is in a huge castle out in the countryside. Just wait till you see it."

"Hang on." Drefinia said, her insides freezing up with dread. "What're we gonna tell Mum?"

* * *

Anna Bertram was a strict no nonsense woman. The only time she was lenient was when dealing with her two children. She didn't even mind in the slightest that they both chose to use different names from the ones she had given them at birth. So instead of Samantha and Quentin, she was now mother to Drefinia and Tremain.

Both her children had been acting very strange today. They had been very evasive. Now Tremain had just walked right up to her and wordlessly handed her a letter. She opened it slowly; it was made of strange, thick paper. "Hogwarts." She read aloud.

After reading the whole thing, she looked up at her son. "What's this all about? Some kind of weird joke?"

Tremain swallowed nervously. "Uh, no. It's a real school. And they want us to go there. Me and Drefinia."

Anna laughed. "Okay, you got me. Nice joke. Ha ha."

"It's not a joke Mom." Drefinia said quietly. Anna hadn't even noticed her come up. "We're going to transfer there to learn magic."

"Now this isn't funny! You can both just cut it – aaaaaah!"

The scream was caused by the sudden appearance of a strangely-dressed old man. "Good evening madam, I hope I didn't startle you too much. My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Anna sat down heavily. "So it's not a joke." She said shakily.

"No, there is no joke. What do you say? Will you consent to your two fine children transferring over to my school?"

"I- I suppose. If that's what they really want."

"Yeah!" the twins said in unison.

She sighed. "Alright. I'll set it up."

"Thanks Mom." Drefinia said, hugging her.

* * *

"Okay." Morgan said. "All we have to do is tap this brick here. And voila." She said as the wall opened up into an archway. "Welcome to Diagon Alley."

The twins were speechless as they walked through the crowded street. This was everything they'd always wanted. Magic.

"Our first stop is Gringotts. We need to change your money over." Morgan said.

"Change it over?" Tremain asked. "Wizards have their own currency?"

Morgan smiled. "Yep. There are bronze Knuts, silver Sickles and gold Galleons. There are twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle and seventeen Sickles to a Galleon. Well," she said, coming to a stop, "here we are."

When they went through the doors, Drefinia whispered to Morgan, "What are those little guys up on the counters?"

"They're goblins." She replied. "Nice enough, as long as you don't try to steal from them. Then you get into big trouble." She grinned. "Don't worry. Just go over there, and say you want your money changed." She watched as they went over hesitantly and talked to the goblin at the desk. When they came back she grinned and spread her arms expansively. "See that wasn't so bad! Come on; let's go get your books and robes."

Coming out of Madame Malkin's shop, their arms full of books and carrying their new robes, Morgan clapped her hands together gleefully (she wasn't holding anything) and said, "Now it's time for the fun part. We go and get your wands."

* * *

As they walked in, Tremain whispered, "What is this place? It feels like some strange old temple."

"This is Olivander's and-" she turned at the sound of a voice.

"Hello." Said Mr. Olivander, coming out of the shadows suddenly. "It's nice to see you again, Miss Malfoy. Phoenix feather, redwood, 8 ¾ inches. Good for transfiguration work."

"Uh, yes." She said sheepishly. "My friends are here to get wands. This is-"

"Quentin." Tremain cut her off by coming forward to shake Mr. Olivander's hand.

Morgan looked at him quizzically. "_Quentin?_" she mouthed.

He shrugged. "Mom insisted for some strange reason."

Drefinia smiled nervously. "I'm Drefinia." She said to Mr. Olivander, sticking to her chosen name. Anna had tried to talk her into using her given name again, but Drefinia just couldn't bear to go back to _Samantha_. She had always hated that name, and that wasn't about to change.

"Now if the two of you would hold out your wand arms…" he said expectantly, pulling out two of his silver measuring tapes.

Seeing the confusion on her friends' faces, Morgan fought down the urge to laugh and said, "Your writing hand."

Reluctantly, the twins both extended their left arms and tried to hide their surprise as the measuring tapes began taking measurements of their own accord while Mr. Olivander hunted around amongst the multitude of boxes lining the walls.

"Ah here we are." said Mr. Olivander, handing Tremain a wand. "Willow and unicorn hair, seven inches, whippy. Give it a wave."

With a disbelieving look on his face, Tremain held it up and waved it about a bit, but had barely held it for a few seconds when it was snatched from his hand and another one was given to him.

"Alderwood and dragon heartstring, eight and a half inches, quite bendy. Try that."

"_Somehow this feels right._" Tremain thought as he whipped this one over his head, sending out a spray of black and gold sparks. He jolted suddenly and looked down at the wand. Those little sparks had suddenly made him realize that this was really happening, and he was about to become a wizard.

"An easily pleased customer, eh?" Mr. Olivander said, seeming almost disappointed. "Well, on to your sister then. Here you are my dear, yew and unicorn hair, nine inches, springy." He handed her a wand.

But Drefinia's match proved to be much more difficult than her brother. She tried wand after wand as the boxes piled up around them and Mr. Olivander got more and more excited. Finally he handed her a wand that had taken him several moments and much ladder climbing to locate.

"Beechwood and dragon heartstring, eight and a quarter inches, rather flexible." He said to her, his eyes alight with this challenge.

Finally Drefinia managed to produce some sparks of her own, this time black and silver.

They paid and exited the shop, both of the twins clutching their wands almost as if they might escape if left to their own devices.

* * *

It was one week before school started up again, Morgan, Drefinia and the newly dubbed Quentin were standing in Dumbledore's office. Morgan was looking around with vague interest, but the twins were staring agape. They'd barely talked since the castle first came into view.

Morgan had though, she had spent most of the day fuming over the fact that her friends would be sorted in Dumbledore's office, away from the prying eyes of the school, while she hers had been a public ordeal.

Professor McGonagall came over with a stool and the sorting hat. "Master Bertram, sit here." She commanded.

Quentin sat nervously, half expecting the hat to bite of the top of his head when she put it on him. He jumped as if it had taken a bite out of him when it started speaking.

"Hmmm… Brave, loyal and relatively talented. An easy choice. Gryffindor!" the hat said, calling the last word to the occupants of the room.

"All right!" Morgan exclaimed. "You're in my house!"

Quentin got up so that Drefinia could have her turn.

To her, the hat said, "Talented, rule-abiding and a strong desire to learn. Definitely Ravenclaw!"

After the word Ravenclaw rang out through the room, there was a stunned silence. "Ravenclaw? Surely there's some mistake?" Morgan asked quietly.

"There is no mistake." Professor McGonagall chided. "Come along," she said to Drefinia, "I will take you to your dormitory. I trust you can show her brother to his."

Drefinia allowed herself to be led away, but not before taking a fleeting look behind her at her brother.

"Surely there's something you could do about this Headmaster?" Morgan appealed.

"Don't worry," he said, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder as the door closed, "I'm sure everything will turn out for the best."


	12. Adjustments

A/N: Sorry this took so damn long but I got a new job & have been extraordinarily tired. Also sorry that this chapter is kinda short. Thanks to DarkGoddess29 for her review. Personally, I hope that more than one person read the last chapter, so why didn't you review? I really love getting feedback for my work, even if it's critical because that helps me to improve. So if you're reading this, please please please review.

* * *

"Okay, now remember: swish and flick." Morgan had volunteered to give her friends some basic tuition before school started to try and prepare them. So far all it was doing was irritating everyone.

Drefinia glared at her for the umpteenth time. "I feel ridiculous doing this crap over and over."

Morgan sighed and began rubbing the bridge of her nose out of frustration. She was about to tell Drefinia why that was – again – when Quentin came to her defense.

"Look Fin," he said, using a nickname for her for the first time in over a year, "we know why, if we don't know this stuff, we'll end up behind a bunch of eleven year-olds. Do you want that?"

"Well, no." she said reluctantly.

"Don't worry!" Morgan said cheerfully, clapping Drefinia on the back. "I won't be long till your cursing everyone around you with a vengeance!"

* * *

Morgan spent the whole of the first day back worrying about the twins. She became so preoccupied that she forgot to lower the flames on the potion like she was supposed to.

"Damn it!" she cried as some of the viscous liquid boiled over the side and dissolved the edge of her robes. About to try and fix the disaster that could only be called a potion by default, it was vanished before her eyes. She looked up into the sneering face of Professor Snape.

"A zero mark for today and ten points from Gryffindor for your language." He said scornfully.

Morgan almost retorted that if he was going to take points off for 'damn it', she could tell him a few much more impressive phrases; they'd probably make his hair curl, the greasy mop that it was. But not wanting to risk her life, she bit down on her tongue hard and just nodded.

Luckily the bell rang then, and the class filed out. Potions being the last class of the day, Morgan headed straight for the library as she had arranged to meet Quentin and Drefinia there, wanting to talk to them so she could see how their first day had gone.

She found them in a secluded corner, defiantly pretending not to see the stares they were getting.

"Hey guys. How'd it go?" She asked.

"Well the classes went fine, but I can't believe how many weird looks we've been getting." Drefinia answered.

"What can I say?" Morgan said, sitting down. "They do love a good scandal here. I've got good news though. The first Quidditch game is on this Saturday."

"Are you playing in it?" Quentin asked.

Morgan shook her head. "Nah, it's Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw, so I can come with you to watch."

* * *

"It's the first game of the year and Ravenclaw are going up against Hufflepuff. Here come the players."

Harry shook his head and sighed. It just wasn't the same without Lee Jordan. Now that he had finished school, some guy from Hufflepuff that he didn't know was doing the commentary, very straight forward and with none of the personal comments that had made Lee so interesting to listen to.

Morgan found she could only pay a small amount of attention to the game. She knew she should have been checking out the competition, but she was too worried about Drefinia. Quentin was fine; Ron had him entranced by the story of the time they went to the Quidditch Cup.

She glanced over at the Ravenclaw stand again and saw that Drefinia was finally talking to someone and from the looks of it, hadn't _yet _gotten into an argument.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned back to the game, searching for any chinks in the armor of the Ravenclaw team, they were really good this year, and if she wanted to beat them she needed to see what direction each player was worst at dodging from. That way she'd know what way to send the bludgers from.

* * *

"I like your hair."

Drefinia turned at the voice. She saw that it was a girl behind her with long blonde hair and a slightly dazed expression who had addressed her. "Thanks." She said, slightly uncertain. This was the first time anyone here had actually talked to her directly.

"I'm Luna." said the girl extending a hand.

"Drefinia." She answered, reluctantly taking the hand and shaking it.

"Have you heard of the terrible plight of the Snorglepluffs?" Luna asked suddenly.

"The what?"

"Snorglepluffs. They're being hunted to extinction in France."

"I… uh can't say that I've ever heard of them." Drefinia began to wish silently that this strange girl would just go away and leave her alone. Sadly, she didn't get her wish.

"Oh, their ministry is keeping it quiet. No one would even know if it wasn't for the Quibbler. My dad's the editor." She said this all matter-of-factly, while handing Drefinia a copy.

Drefinia only needed to just look over the cover to know exactly what kind of magazine this was. It screamed 'crazy conspiracy theories inside' just from the titles of the articles, there was no need to read them. She handed the magazine back to Luna and turned back to look at the game.

Spacey as Luna was, she took the hint and didn't try to talk to Drefinia for the rest of the game.


End file.
